Blissful Amnesia
by Swordchucks
Summary: Chapter 1: "Whatever I’d done, it apparently warranted a savage beating from an oddly colored sea mammal. I don’t recall what it was, of course, seeing as I’ve already said that this is my first memory." Amnesia. Harry/Fleur. Pre-book 1.
1. Chapter 1

I have extreme luck

Blissful Amnesia

Chapter 1

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I have extreme luck. Not good luck or bad luck, per se, but extreme. When it's running on the good side, it goes very good. When it's going bad, it goes straight to hell.

I think you get some idea of what kind of luck I have when I tell you that my first memory is of being beaten. Before that, there's just… well, nothing. Sometimes I get flashes, but they're always half remembered little thinks like a song you forgot years ago.

Anyway, I might as well start with my first memory, because that's where this whole adventure begins.

When I say "beating", I'm not exaggerating. I don't mean the kind of swatting an unruly child gets for introducing the walls to the miracle of permanent markers. I mean full on, rib cracking, "who'd you just call a sissy" beating. The memory doesn't start until the beating has already gone on for quite a while, if the amount of pain I remember is any indication.

The fellow doing the hitting was easily twice my height and a dozen times my girth. His face was an interesting shade of puce, but he didn't seem to be able to speak much above the level of snarled obscenities. I eventually found out that he was my Uncle, but that's a story for another time. Whatever I'd done, it apparently warranted a savage beating from an oddly colored sea mammal. I don't recall what it was, of course, seeing as I've already said that this is my first memory.

Anyway, he hit me a couple more times, breaking stuff and causing me no small amount of discomfort. Having no other memories, I couldn't do much more than take it. The fact that my jaw was cracked in two places really didn't make negotiation an option, after all.

All I could think about was that I wanted, desperately, to be somewhere far away from there. Somewhere safe. That's about the time I discovered Apparition.

Let me tell you, Apparition is a singularly unpleasant form of travel. You have to greatly compress your body, much like an expansion charm in reverse, and then send it through a tiny little magical portal to somewhere else. That's one reason why messing it up leads to splinching; you don't manage to get a part small enough and it gets severed by the portal. However, I digress.

Apparition isn't fun in the best of times, but when you do it in the physical shape I was in, you're just asking for trouble. On the plus side, my command of magic is so instinctual that I didn't splinch so much as a fingernail. On the down side, the agony on my already battered body meant I was unconscious within two seconds of arriving wherever I went.

All I can remember about the place is that I somehow knew it was "safe" and that if no one found me while I was unconscious, the odds were quite good that I'd die from my injuries. See? That's the kind of luck I have.

When I finally woke up, I knew I'd been moved. The glimpse I'd had of the "safe" place was a bare room with worn wooden floors. When I woke up, I was face down on silk sheets. I was also missing the lion's share of the pain I'd been in, too.

In my mind's eye, I leapt out of the bed, dove for cover and prepared to defend myself against possible assailants. In reality, I managed to rise two inches off the silk before collapsing in pain. Every one of my limbs, my ribs, my jaw, and even my pelvis flared with the kind of pins and needles sensation you get after a foot falls asleep. There was also a good deal of pain that I'd associate with stretching stiff muscles.

My mind's eye decided that I'd be resting right where I was until someone came to get me or that sharp tingling went away. I wasn't going to be doing anything acrobatic for quite a while. Knowing I couldn't move, much less defend myself, made the wait for someone to come see me take forever. In reality, it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

By the time the door finally creaked open, I had resigned myself to a quick death at someone's hands. Maybe it was the manatee again, come back to finish off what he'd started. I'd come to the conclusion that at least the worst of my injures were healed, but that didn't mean they had good intentions. It was best to keep torture victims in good health until they tell you what you want to know, after all.

"Oh, you're awake," a soft feminine voice asked. I knew better than to try to answer, so I just grunted in response. "There are likely to be some lingering effects from all of the healing magic we had to use. You were very near death when my husband brought you here." She went about examining me for a while and then, rather gently, rolled me over giving me the first real look at where I was.

The bed I was on was huge, with a canopy above and plenty of pillows. The rest of the room, or what I could see of it, was furnished with expensive antiques and more ornamentation than you could shake a stick at. It was a perfect example of the "I'm rich, look at me" school of interior design.

"I will get you something for the stiffness, but you will have to be very careful for a while," came the voice again and I noticed her for the first time. She was tall, at least from my perspective, and blond. Her beauty was no small thing, and she looked to be in her mid twenties, though it could well have been older if she were magical. Wait, magical? "Quite a bit of your muscle tissue is brand new, and the bones have been recently mended, as well. My husband will want to speak to you tonight. Until then, please try to rest."

The closest I could come to a response was another grunt and the angel that had been tending me walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I want to repeat that my first memory was of the beating. Before that? Absolutely nothing. In total, that gave me about twenty minutes of lifetime experience.

Still, I seemed to know things. I knew what Apparition was, though I only recall using it that one time. I knew that magic was real, somehow, and it was what had probably been used to keep me alive. I couldn't think of any spells or specific potions, but I somehow knew, in a general sense, what could be done with that type of thing.

I could have stayed there for a week, doing nothing but discovering new things that I "knew" but had no memories for. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, I was only alone for about twenty minutes before the door cracked open and I caught a flash of platinum blond hair sneaking into the room.

"Who are you?" she asked softly. I managed to raise my head an inch or so, just enough to catch a fleeting look at the newcomer. She was young, no more than thirteen or fourteen, if I didn't miss my guess, but stunningly attractive. The woman from before was definitely her mother.

Good genes.

"I…" I managed, more than a little surprised at being able to talk, even though it hurt. "… don't… know."

"You don't know who you are?" she asked, her voice hesitant but sounding very nice.

"No," I managed again, wincing and gulping as my jaw ached.

"You are not here to cause trouble, are you?" she asked.

I would have laughed if I could, but instead managed another soft "no".

She was silent for a while, and my neck ached too much to look at her again. "Well, then, you had better not."

With that, she slipped out the door again, and I realized that she was sneaking around. Most likely, her mother had forbidden her to speak with me, but she'd done so. Quite brave, really.

After that, the mother came in a while later to feed me some potions which helped a lot with the soreness. Before long, I was sipping a thin broth and relaxing against a mound of pillows. I was exhausted just from getting to a sitting position and I'd taken more than a few naps during the day.

I still didn't know any names, though I'd caught a few more glimpses of the daughter. I was starting to get a very clear sense of who these people were, and they weren't dangerous. The mother was confident, with a powerful personality and enough beauty to be accustomed to having her way. The daughter was on her road to that, but the awkwardness of her teens was making it hard on her.

Rather unsurprisingly, both of them were magically very strong.

That's another thing I'd discovered after waking up. I could sense magic, even from a distance, and I could feel it in people. At the time, I didn't think it was that significant because I simply didn't know how rare of a talent it was.

It was evening when the mysterious "husband" appeared. He was handsome and tall, with piercing blue eyes and dark hair. He projected an aura even greater than that of his wife, and I could tell they were a good match. I immediately knew that if this man was not politically powerful, it was by his own choice. I got a feel for his magic, as well, and thought it rather solid, though not quite so strong as that of his wife or daughter. At the time, I had no clue how the average person "felt" to my magical senses, but my instincts were helping me out a little.

"I am glad to see you awake," he said in a warm tone of voice, though I could tell that he was guarded. "Do you know how you came to be where I found you, young man?"

I started to shake my head but immediately thought better of it. "No, sir."

"What's your name?"

"I don't know that, either, sir."

"Do you remember anything?" he asked gently.

"I remember a big fat man hitting me. Then I wanted desperately to be safe and Apparated to some room with a wooden floor and passed out. I thought I was going to die." I can assure you, the quiver in my voice was completely genuine. Talking that much still hurt.

"You know how to Apparate, then?" he asked, his eyebrows rising slightly.

"I did it once. I could do it again, if I wanted to. It was so painful, though…"

"Yes, Apparition with injuries is a dangerous prospect," he said, grimly. "You are too young to be Apparating, in any case."

"Too young?" I mumbled in response. It wasn't a thought I'd really considered. I had no clue how old I was, and it's not like you can tell from your internal monologues.

"Can't remember any of that, either? Well, you look like you're nine or ten. Maybe a really small eleven, as far as I can tell," that answered, he went back to the topic at hand. "I've got a few friends in the Ministry, and they're keeping a watch on missing person reports. As soon as your family reports you missing, we'll get you home."

I nodded stoically. I had no clue what I'd do with a family I couldn't remember. At least they might be able to tell me what I'd done to get captured by that walrus with an attitude problem.

"Fortunately for you, you Apparated to a safe house that some of my friends established during a war not too long ago. No one has been there in years, but we still keep some monitoring charms on it. When you showed up, I found you there and brought you back to tend to. The healers tell me that you've got a great deal of dark magic residue on you, which could account for your amnesia. Whoever tried to kill you might still be looking to finish the job, so you're welcome here until we find your real home," he said softly but warmly.

"I'll have the healer determine your age when she returns. If we don't find your parents by the end of the month, I wouldn't mind if you joined my oldest in her lessons. She's being home schooled this year because of some developmental issues that run in her mother's side of family. Nothing bad, just… well, hopefully you're too young to have a problem with them. Anyway, if your magic is stable enough, you might be able to take some lessons with her."

If nothing else, I was impressed at the generosity of this man that I had never met before in my life. He was opening up his home to me, a kid with no memory and dark magic about me. I resolved right then and there to never do anything to make him regret trust in me like that.

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Author's Notes: But Lily is going nowhere fast, so I tried another tactic. I've got two more chapters written, and will upload them every few days. I do want to thank everyone who reviews this and my other stories… I know I haven't been responding to reviews much of late, but RL has been a problem. Anyway, thanks even if I don't say it to you directly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Blissful Amnesia**

**Chapter 2**

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The "husband" finally introduced himself as Jules Delacour. He was a moderately high ranked member of the French Ministry of Magic, but fortunately for me, he wasn't so highly ranked as to assume that my presence was part of a plot to destroy him in some way. His wife, the first stunning beauty I had met, was named Apolline and their oldest daughter was Fleur. Their younger daughter, who I met a little later that evening, was named Gabrielle, and she was shy around me though Fleur said that she was normally a little chatterbox.

We were and had been speaking French the whole time, but I apparently didn't have a distinctive accent that could help them find out where I lived. Jules theorized that I was probably from a larger city as the more rural areas of France were less likely to produce someone with so little accent. The clothes I'd been wearing when I was found were threadbare and worn, their size obviously wrong for me. Jules again theorized that I might have been held by my captors for a fair amount of time. My pockets were also empty aside from a few scraps of lint.

All in all, I had nothing on my person and no identifiable traits that were going to help us trace me back to my family. If I even had had a family left to trace, that is. The amount of dark magic lingering about me wasn't the kind of stuff that just happened by accident; someone had deliberately tried to do something nasty to me. Jules didn't say so specifically, but I could read between the lines. If someone had tried to hurt me, they might have done the same to my family. Worse yet, that someone might have been part of my family.

Once it had been described to me, I found that I could sense the dark magic with my magical senses. It's hard to put the way black magic feels into words, but "oily" and "heavy" are good words. It's not a pleasant feeling, and I felt that Jules was likely right in assessing the danger to my family from a person capable of using such a thing.

That first night in the Delacour mansion, I didn't sleep very well. I was exhausted from all of the healing medicine I'd been under, but there was a weird sort of tension in me that just wouldn't fade. Eventually, I gave up sleep as a bad job and took a long soak in an ornate bathtub to help ease the stiffness in my body. It helped a little, and I did some stretching exercises to help work out some more of it.

By the time the rest of the family started to stir, I was sore but otherwise alright. Well, as alright as a young boy with no memory in a strange place can be, anyway.

Breakfast was an interesting affair, with food that didn't feel very familiar but managed to taste very good. I knew I was the center of almost all of the attention in the room, but did my best to ignore it. At one point, Jules suggested that I was going to need a name of some sort. As I had no preference, Jules suggested just calling me Jean Dupont. I really didn't care, so I agreed.

After breakfast, Jules left for work and Apolline vanished to talk to the house elves about an event that was being planned for later in the month. As Gabrielle seemed to have developed a painful case of shyness around me, that left me with only Fleur to talk to.

She had apparently dismissed me out of hand as a "little boy" and didn't bother to pretend an interesting in talking to me. Having little other option besides passing the day alone, I followed her as she stalked into the family library to a small table piled high with parchment and books. She pointedly ignored me as I ran a finger over the words on the spines of one stack.

Some of the titles felt familiar, others didn't. I opened one on Ancient Runes and felt a weird sensation of discovering knowledge I had but couldn't recall. It's not an altogether pleasant sensation.

I did the same for any of the other books that looked familiar. Fleur didn't pay any attention to me as I did so, apparently doing her summer homework instead.

It was two hours later that I decided I had enough of skimming books to refresh my "memory" and sidled over to Fleur. She was still focused on her work, not paying attention to me at all, so I took the chance to study her. She really was quite pretty when she wasn't scowling at me. Beautiful, really. Tall, but not towering. Lithe, but not skinny. Her figure, though concealed by robes, was budding, but looked like it was getting padding in all of the right places.

"What'cha working on?" I asked, after a bit. Apparently, she'd gotten quite used to ignoring me, because she jumped and left a big ink blot at the end of a line as the tip of her quill broke from being pressed into the parchment too hard. She gave me a death glare, which almost made me sorry that I'd scared her. Almost. Her 'I'm better than you' act was starting to get on my nerves… and I'd only known her a matter of hours!

"I," she sniffed at me, "am working on an essay on the Wit Sharpening Potion. An essay that you have made me ruin, I might add."

Before she could react, I'd taken the parchment from her hand. "Sorry about that," I said as I traced a finger over the ink blot, using just a little bit of magic to make the blot vanish and leave the writing it had covered. It was one of those things that just came to me.

She snatched the scroll back from me but gaped when she saw that the ink blot was gone. "How did you do that?" she asked, both suspicious and surprised.

"I just used a little magic. Nothing big."

"But, Jean, you didn't use a wand-and at your age-how," she sputtered. I'd have asked what a wand was, but that information had recently returned to me as well. Most people needed them to focus their magic, but I could do at least some stuff without one. Yay, me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you or anything," I said with a shrug and turned away from her. She gaped at me and I couldn't resist throwing back over my shoulder as I walked out of the room, "You might want to check your work again. The bile is used to counter the dizziness side effect from the ground beetle, not to augment the ginger's effectiveness."

I was getting tired by that point, anyway, so I went to have a nap. Lunch came, and with it more unfamiliar but tasty food. Afterwards, Fleur cornered me again and started asking questions about how I knew so much but remembered nothing. I could only tell her that I had no idea, but I know she didn't believe me.

What happened next is not my fault. Completely not my fault.

I still don't know if it was intentional or not, but Fleur sent a burst of Veela magic at me. Maybe she was just frustrated, or maybe she though it would get me to spill my secrets. It was the kind of magic that Veela use to project that heady aura of attraction that makes them so popular and to basically get their way with anyone who isn't able to resist it. Turns out, I'm a resister.

Anyway, the magic hit me and I instinctively did… something. I would liken it to being a heavy boulder in the middle of a stream. The water rushes forward, presses against the stone, but then washes away to either side. The magic did that, but with my mind being the boulder. I knew what it wanted from me, but I didn't feel at all compelled to listen to it. After a second or two of that sensation, I wondered what would happen if I pushed back on it, rather than just letting it flow around my mind.

Yeah, not the best idea I've ever had.

If you've ever met a Veela, you know that they are creatures of passion. Not just sexual passion, of course, as they are passionate about absolutely everything. It is never "good enough" for a Veela, it's either "perfect" or "horrible". There is very little middle ground with them.

It's also important to note that there are no male Veela. Veela and humans intermingle freely. Male children are fully human, though they tend to be beautiful men. I've always had my suspicions about Lucy Malfoy and his silky flowing tresses, but I digress. Female children have about a fifty percent chance of being Veela themselves. There's also a strong breeding drive in their genetic makeup which makes Veela almost exclusively heterosexual.

Those last two are important because it means that Veela are almost never subjected to Veela magic.

All of those facts go together and help explain why, ten minutes later, Apolline walked in on me being pinned to the floor and kissed very thoroughly by her thirteen year old daughter. I'd like to say that it was a horrible experience, but I'm not that skilled at lying.

Yeah, if you're wondering, that's not something a house guest should typically do.

When screaming failed to get Fleur's attention, her mother eventually had to stun her to get her to stop. Once she did that, I got to explain, at wand point, what I'd accidentally done. Apolline was not amused.

It took me a couple of minutes to figure out how to release the reversed stream of allure magic, and in the end, I couldn't get all of it loose. Apparently the allure does that normally… once it gets into someone, they always retain a little bit of attraction for the Veela. So… let's take a minute and reflect on the fact that I got my first kiss from a gorgeous, older Veela when I was somewhere between nine and eleven. See? Extreme luck. Good in this case.

When Apolline revived Fleur, she was mortified at what she'd done, alternately apologizing to and glaring at me. I apologized, too, but I wasn't really that sorry. I mean, she was pretty hot.

During the course of the afternoon, I saw a Healer for a while and learned some interesting stuff. As it turned out, I was born sometime between June and September of 1980, which made me eleven or nearly so. My mind and magical ability were different matters entirely. Apparently, I had the cognitive and magical ability of a fully grown adult. A rather intelligent and powerful adult, at that. There didn't appear to be anything wrong with me to have caused it, but the dark magic residue might have been masking something.

The Healer had no clue as to the reason for my maturity, and neither did I. It did go a long way toward explaining my behavior, though. Mentally, I wasn't anywhere near as young as I looked. I mentioned, in a round-about way, that I knew a lot of stuff I had no memories of, but the Healer just looked confused. I couldn't help but think that the two things were probably related.

When Jules got home, he was alternately surprised and amused by the day's events. I'm just glad he didn't castrate me right then and there for what I'd been doing to his daughter.

To make a long story short, I stayed with the Delacours for the rest of August. Jules had his contacts looking for missing persons reports, but nothing came of it. Apolline warmed up to me even more and Gabby came out of her shell. She was an adorable child and had the world's biggest crush on me. It was cute and sweet, but her sister interested me a lot more in that way.

I went through the rest of the library and learned an incredible amount in a short period of time. I got to flirt with Fleur a lot, and she'd seem interested at times but would suddenly turn away. Eventually, I figured out it was because I looked like a kid.

I accepted that for all of a week before I brewed myself an aging potion. Potions didn't come as easily to me as other kinds of magic, but I could do them if I put my mind to it. Two failed batches later, I had what I needed. I told Apolline what I was doing, mostly so she wouldn't hex me when I showed up looking older, and downed the thing.

Let me tell you, if I didn't have that first memory of the beating from the Mountain-That-Walks, I'd have thought it agonizing. In perspective, it was quite painful, but not unbearable. Too bad it would only last a month before I'd have to go through it all over again.

The best part was the next morning when I showed up to breakfast looking a rather dashing fourteen and Fleur got a look at me. Her eyes narrowed initially, until she recognized me and then they widened in surprise. For my part, I just gave her a knowing smirk and proceeded to lightly touch her foot with my own under the table. Five minutes later, we were caressing each other's legs with our feet and it was only the presence of other people in the room that kept it from escalating from there.

Apolline's grin faded to a frown when she realized what we were doing and had a stern word with Fleur after breakfast. I didn't stick around for it, of course, but I wasn't so far away as to miss Fleur's indignant scream of "Chastity belt!" That made me chuckle.

The rest of August was an adventure. Fleur was as eager as I to get better acquainted with each other and we snuck off every time we could. When her mother caught us making out in Fleur's bedroom, she made good on her threat and cast a spell that caused our pelvises to magically repel each other. She also made me swear, at wand point, that I wouldn't tamper with the spell in any way.

The oath was necessary because of my odd relationship with magic. It was, in a word, unique. If I'd wanted to remove the spell, it wouldn't have lasted more than ten minutes. I'd just have to feel it out and unravel it.

Chastised, quite literally, we cooled down our romps a bit, but we still had fun. Fleur's contact with males had been almost non-existent since she started puberty because of her rampant Veela magic, so it was a learning experience for us both.

Anyway, August ended and our tutoring sessions began. Jules took me to the Parisian Magic Quarter to get a wand for just that purpose, though I didn't really think I needed one. He insisted, however, and so we went and got one. Fleur was starting on her fourth year material and I was picking up with third year. I didn't recall any kind of education, but I had little trouble keeping up. About half of what we covered, I already knew because of my weird knowledge thing. The rest was not, however, so it made things interesting.

Everything was going well up until about the second week of September. Jules came in looking very grim and took me aside into his study. I had a bad feeling, but went anyway.

"Jean," he began and I could tell from the set of his jaw that this was going to be something hard to hear. "I think I have found out who you are."

I let out a sign of relief, though I was also quite disappointed. Fleur was a wonderful girl, but I doubt my family was going to approve of me using a magical aging potion to be with her.

He produced a folded newspaper from his side and tossed it on to the table. My eyes skimmed over the headline: "Boy-Who-Lives Missing!" To the side, there was a smaller but obviously related headline which read "Potter's Muggle Relatives Wanted for Questioning". I looked at it, wondering how this affected me. I unfolded the paper and almost immediately dropped it in shock.

There, just below the fold, was the face of the man who had been beating me.

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Author's Note: Well, that should answer some questions. The story is currently up to 4 written chapters. Expect a new one early next week sometime.

Also, thank you guys for all of the great reviews!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Some more questions are answered, but more remain. Chapter 4 is also written, so expect that around Wednesday. Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I try to respond to any that have questions (though some I'm just answering by posting this chapter).

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**Blissful Amnesia**

**Chapter 3**

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I sat down hard. There, grinning up at me with one of the most disingenuous smiles I'd ever seen, was the guy who had beaten me nearly to death. My hands clenched into fists to stop them from shaking as I tried to keep calm. I finally managed to tear my eyes off of that picture and looked at Jules.

"Do you think this Dursley guy killed that other kid, then?"

That caused the older man to blink a few times. "No, Jean. I think that the 'other kid' is who you really are."

"What, this Boy-Who-Lived business?" I asked, surprised and more than a little confused. I had a fairly high opinion of myself, but certainly not to the 'my name needs hyphens' level.

"Yes, Jean."

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, for one thing, there's the hair color, the eye color, both accurate with the description of Mr. Potter. Then there's the scar you have which matches, at least in general terms, one he was supposed to have gotten on the night Voldemort killed his parents. It also goes a long way to explain the lingering traces of dark magic about you. The Boy-Who-Lived got his name after surviving a killing curse… the first and only such survivor known." As he went on, I felt a cold knot of dread settle into my stomach. I didn't ask for this treatment and I didn't want it. "Finally, there is the fact that we've held this entire conversation in English and you have a very British accent."

The tension that had been building in me suddenly receded, but the dread remained. We'd been speaking English, and I hadn't even noticed. Damn.

I shook my head to clear it and tried switching back to French. Now that I knew I could do that, it wasn't so hard to keep my languages straight. "I suppose I must leave, then. Go back to… whatever it is I have to go back to."

Jules must have noticed my distress, though I know I was trying hard to hide it. "Jean, you do not have to do anything you don't want to do. Harry Potter, that is the name of this 'Boy-Who-Lived', has no remaining family. Apparently, the English Ministry placed him with his Muggle aunt and uncle at the behest of Albus Dumbledore. Mr. Dumbledore is a very widely respected man, but his judgment in this case appears to have been lacking. He is also the headmaster of their primary school of magic." His face grew hard as his statements went on. "I will not force you to go back under that man's control. Not if he would allow…"

"Then I can stay here?" I asked, not daring to believe my luck. I didn't remember anything about Harry Potter, and didn't particularly want to be him. If the newspaper gave him a hyphenated moniker, what else would they expect from him? I liked being just Jean Dupont or 'Fleur's little boyfriend' as I was often called. I liked that one a lot, too.

"Of course, Jean," he said with a warm smile and I almost wept with relief. "I am, I admit, more than a little relieved at this revelation. The Potters are an old family, and one that has always been respectable. They're not one of the richest by any means, but you will have enough funds to get you started in the world once you claim your inheritance. If you and Fleur continue down the path you are walking, those are the kinds of things a father has to worry about."

I blushed at that. Of course, if I'd known what he was going to say next, I'd have saved the blush for a moment.

"Speaking of which, you will become the patriarch of your house when you turn twelve. I fully expect to receive a proposal for an alliance between our houses through marriage shortly afterwards." I assume that my eyes nearly popped out of my head because he laughed heartily at me. "Or maybe it can wait a while after that. I wouldn't want to rush young love, after all."

I only got redder and redder as his good natured teasing continued. I'm surprised I didn't pass out from lack of blood to other parts of my body before I managed to slink out of his study. I had to tell Fleur about what I'd learned.

I did so, though I certainly left out her father's teasing about marriage, and we had a good make out session to get rid of the rest of my tension.

The next morning, I felt a lot better. In fact, I felt free. The black cloud I hadn't even know had been hanging over me was finally gone. In the back of mind, I guess I'd always been afraid that I was going to get snatched up and sent off to some family I had no memories of and told to love them or something. Having no family sucked, I guess, but when faced with a choice between having no family and having one I didn't remember, the former seemed the kinder choice.

My mood was infectious and I had the whole household smiling and having a great day that day. I was ignoring several major issues, sure, but I felt better about the world in general.

Just like that, the school term rolled on. I stayed hidden on the Delacour estate, and no one ever came looking for Harry Potter. Why would they? I mean, I'd Apparated to a rather hidden safehouse which had no official ties to anyone. Since they didn't notice me gone for weeks, there's no way the trace could have been made, and even if it was… there was simply no bridge between that building and my current abode.

I only had regular contact with the four Delacours, the household staff, which was mostly house elves in any case, and our tutors who were all under some pretty dangerous magical contracts about confidentiality. It seems like the craze during the fifties had been to use tutors as spies for political opponents, and the French were still a little jumpy about that. Anyway, with no one to trace me and no one to recognize me, I was secure in my location and quite happy.

There were still some big questions left unanswered, though. Starting from the beginning, why didn't I have a memory of anything before Vernon (that was Harry Potter's uncle, by the way) started beating me? Following right after that, how did I know how to Apparate (or even that it was called Apparition) and find the safehouse? Finally, why did I have this strange mastery over magic and all of this weird almost-knowledge? Had Harry Potter been getting some sort of advanced magical tutoring? Living with Muggles, that seemed unlikely, but that might have just been a cover. The fact that I was mentally and magically mature was almost an afterthought when compared to these bigger items.

Those all of those questions, I couldn't help but think, had the same answer. After a lot of agonizing, I came to the conclusion that it might have been something that Voldemort did to me as a baby. I didn't like the idea of a Dark Lord monkeying about with my magic or my mind, but there it was. There was an outside chance that there was training or tutoring or something, but the more I learned about the magical world in general and the British in particular, the more I doubted that. It would have made too much sense for them.

It weighed heavily on me for months, and I consulted with some of the most knowledgeable mind healers on the continent. They couldn't tell me anything aside from the fact that I had a perfectly healthy brain and psyche, though it was that of an adult and not a child.

That, in turn, had me agonizing over whether or not I was taking advantage of Fleur. I tried to distance myself from her and she finally pulled out the reason for it. She gave me rather powerful dissertation on why I was being stupid.

Actually, what she did was grabbed me by the balls and growled at me "Jean Dupont, I am done with you when I say I am done with you. Until then, shut up or I will have to express my disappointment in a most unpleasant fashion." When she said the last, she started squeezing, and I was very enthusiastic about changing my position on the matter.

Did I mention that Veela are passionate to an extreme?

Anyway, the last of summer faded into autumn and then winter. My first remembered Christmas season was rather pleasant, though I'd been forced to rely on owl-order and a loan from Jules to get my gifts. We all went out to the Parisian magical quarter on Christmas Eve to gawk at the decorations and generally have a good time. I wasn't running much of a risk of discovery with my hair charmed blond, several years magically added, and a heavy coat wrapped around me, but it still made me a little nervous.

The new year came and went, as is its way. Following that was a flurry of school work. I'd started out on third year material, but I was on par with Fleur by then. As I filled in more of the holes in my knowledge, my pace was getting even faster, and soon I was ahead of her. To my surprise, she quickly caught up and the pattern repeated itself. We finished the fourth year material in March and plowed right ahead into fifth year.

This confused me for a while because, up until the point where I'd caught up with her, Fleur had been a rather average student. I eventually asked Apolline about it and she just gave me a knowing smirk and told me not to worry about it. If I hadn't already decided that women were a mystery not meant to be understood, I'd have decided so right then.

Eventually, summer came again and with it several weeks of fun and relaxation. I brewed up two extra doses of the aging potion I was taking every month along with my regular batch. Fleur and I used them to create nearly perfect eighteen year old disguises for a two week outing to some rather nice beaches.

I cursed Apolline's chastity charm more than once during that particular outing, let me tell you. It was on that trip that I realized something very important.

I was very much in love with Fleur. I probably had been for a while, but sitting with her in the moonlight on a deserted beach and watching the waves surge in to shore really brought it home for me. Seeing her in an eighteen year old body wearing a white string bikini didn't hurt, either.

Rather rashly, I gave Jules that offer of alliance the day of my twelfth birthday.

I was surprised when he accepted, but he told me that he was only agreeing in concept. Fleur would have to give her consent or refusal to it.

That cooled me off quite a bit and I decided that a few more months to figure out how to tackle that hurdle would be a good idea. Maybe quite a few more months would be better.

Fleur turned fifteen a week after I turned twelve, and her Veela abilities were finally settling down. Her mother informed me that it was probably the stable relationship that we were in that was getting them under control so quickly, but she might have said that just to get me to blush. She gave me that knowing smile again which only confused me further.

News from Britain had been rather scant over the previous year. Vernon had apparently given the magical authorities the slip and they were no doubt slow enough in working with their Muggle counterparts that he'd escaped them as well. There was a small article about a break-in at the London branch of Gringotts, but nothing seemed to come of that, either. At the start of the summer, one of the Hogwarts professors had been found dead after apparently ingesting a magical toxin, but there were no suspects in the case. At least, none were reported.

As September rolled around again, there was a small article about Lucius Malfoy being suspected in a case where a first year was given a dark object. The girl, Wasil or something, turned it in to a professor when she realized that it wasn't quite right. They weren't saying exactly what the object had been, only that it could have proven dangerous if she had retained it for very long.

Jules told me a little bit about the Malfoy reputation for buying their way out of trouble when, a month later, no follow up story had been issued. Most likely, a few thousand galleons had made the matter go away.

Fleur and I were well on our way to end of the sixth year material when the following summer came in. We did the beach thing again and followed it up by backpacking across half of the continent. It was a lot of fun, and I liked learning about new cultures. The fact that I was apparently fluent in pretty much every language I encountered helped greatly. I still worried about the source of that knowledge sometimes, but it did have its benefits.

We weren't completely alone on the trip, of course, as one of the Delacour house elves followed us to make sure we didn't get into trouble. I also suspect that the little guy might have had orders to keep me from breaking a certain chastity charm, too.

The backpacking tour was followed up by a very intensive two week session with an etiquette tutor. We'd learned a lot of etiquette along with our other lessons, but the intensive training was to help us get ready for Beauxbatons that fall. Fleur's allure was under control and there was no reason she should not return to school. Since she was going, I would as well.

When Jules had first brought it up, I'd balked. Going to a school with lots of other kids might get me discovered, and there was the financial angle as well. I'd been fine with borrowing small amounts from Jules over the years, but I knew that Beauxbatons was very, very expensive and exclusive. Only one in twenty witches or wizards in France actually attended, the rest going to lesser schools around the country.

Jules actually rolled his eyes at me and set up an appointment with the Headmistress for the next day. I was reluctant to go, but eventually agreed.

The Headmistress of Beauxbatons was at least a quarter giant from my estimation, and probably more. She was more than a little intimidating, but pretty enough in a broad-featured kind of way.

Anyway, Jules asked me to do a few simple things like conjure the elements, transfigure a cushion into a rabbit, and recite a few potions off the top of my head. The fact that I did all of the magic without my wand appeared to impress the lady to no end and she quickly informed me that she'd be happy to extend to me a scholarship for the next year.

I boggled at that, since I knew for a fact that a Beauxbatons scholarship was a once a decade event, if that. It did, however, answer the question of how I was going to pay Jules back for spending that much money on me. He wouldn't have to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:** I know these are short chapters. However, that just seems to work well with the format, to me. Also, I can't remember whether or not I proof read this one after posting it to CA or not. If not... I apologize for the pytos. Anyway, thanks to everyone that's reviewed.

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**Blissful Amnesia**

**Chapter 4**

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I'd never seen a sight as majestic and powerful as the castle that housed Beauxbatons, but we've already gone over the flaws with my memory so that probably doesn't mean very much.

We made the trip from the station near Marseilles by coach, though the roads which we followed were both mundane and magical. The horses were part fey and took us along the winding roads through fairy tail lands as much as they pulled us across rolling French fields. The scenery was enjoyable in and of itself, but I enjoyed cuddling with my traveling companion even more.

We shared a coach with the other sixth year students (I did not ask how Jules managed to secure the proper papers for me, but he did). Fleur knew the other five teens from her first three years at Beauxbatons, before her Veela nature made it impossible for her to attend. She chattered with them happily, and I was content to just listen and relax. The only other boy in our class, Marcel Dubois, settled on my other side and we soon had a conversation of our own going.

Marcel was a history buff, and so I was I. Of course, my interest was mainly because I didn't have a whole lot of personal history and tried to fill that void by gathering information about our collective history, but I digress. He did know a lot about Beauxbatons, which was an area I hadn't done extensive research on.

At the turn of the last century, there had been two prestigious French schools for magical children. The Academy of Magic in Paris was exclusively for wizards, while the Beauxbatons School of the Magical Arts catered to witches. Of the two, Beauxbatons was the better hidden, which is a lot of why it survived Grindelwald's invasion of France while the Academy did not. In the years after the war, the remaining faculty and students from the Parisian Academy merged with the slightly depleted ranks of Beauxbatons, which was renamed Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

After the war, the enrollment levels of Beauxbatons slid downward. This was intentional, as Beauxbatons catered only to the wealthy and gifted with a price tag to match. Even after fifty years, some aspects of Beauxbatons were clearly tailored for a female population, which is one reason that many families sent their young men to lesser schools instead of vying for a seat there. I'd been living with three females for as long as I could remember, so I doubted that it would be a problem for me.

Marcel and I quickly became good acquaintances, though it was obviously a little early to call each other friend. We chatted about our summers, and generally had a good time. I refrained from talking about my family or my history, of course.

In any case, the castle appeared on the horizon and we swept up the magnificent drive and past the grand fountain. We left our belongings on the carriage and tromped in, each group going to their respective lodgings. Each year was housed together, with their rooms arranged around a central common room. Fleur had explained all of this before, including the rather complex charms on the doors to prevent inappropriate fraternization.

I noticed a girl with a silver pin on her lapel leading the five new first years in one direction while we followed Marcel and the girls to ours. Each room had a large plush bed, a dedicated study area, and an attached bath. I made use of the shower in the room and found that someone had laid out an outfit for me. Smiling to myself when I recognized the faint smell of Fleur lingering in the room, I slipped on the very light formal robes and checked that the work we'd done to disguise my features a little was still in place. When I was sure that there was little that could reveal me as the elusive (and still missing) Harry Potter, I walked out to the common room.

I settled in a chair which turned out to be far more comfortable than it looked, perusing a book on Norse runes and their uses in warding, as I knew I had a while to wait. Marcel appeared ten minutes after I did and seemed to have had the same idea as he settled in to read a book of his own. Half an hour later, the first of the ladies showed up, dressed formally and looking pretty. Fleur was second to last, and I greeted her by taking her hand, turning it palm up, and kissing the exposed part of her wrist, which I know drives her wild.

I don't play fair. I realize that. I just don't care.

A few minutes later, there was a faint chime and we all set out for the main Dining Chamber for the formal welcoming feast. Other students, all dressed in formal attire, joined our group as we walked until the entire fifty students of Beauxbatons came into the chamber at approximately the same time.

There were seven round tables, one for each year, arranged about the chamber. Each table was perfectly sized to hold the right number of students and one or two of the staff. Madame Maxime sat at the seventh year table, along with a woman with short dark hair that I would later learn taught herbology. At the sixth year table, we had Madame Traduisez, the teacher for runic magic, and Monsieur Bataille, the teacher for defensive magics and head of the fencing club.

The evening's meal was pleasant, with good food and good conversation, though the part that interested me most was the game that Fleur and I were playing. It was quite possibly the greatest game ever invented, but the stakes were very high.

Simply put, Fleur and I were doing our best to seduce each other without anyone else being able to notice. There were very strict rules to the game, which we'd invented during our etiquette crash courses, and we managed to play it rather successfully.

It certainly added a level of challenge to what would otherwise have been a rather boring event.

Two hours later, the students returned to their rooms. Curfew was still a few hours away, which is why Fleur and I ended up sneaking off to the gardens for a little romp in the bushes. Her mother was a very smart lady as evidenced by the fact that her chastity spell only stopped pelvic contact and did nothing to keep us from offering each other some manual relief, as it were. If it had stopped that, as well, we might have exploded from pent up hormones.

Taking the aging potion made my body sixteen in all respects, right down to the sex drive, and Fleur was dealing with not only a teen girl's normal impulses but also those from her Veela genes. It was only natural that we helped each other "blow off some pressure" every few days. Or every few hours, if we got the chance.

Anyway, a few cleaning charms, a freshening charm, and a general straightening of clothing were needed before we resumed a rather romantic walk through the gardens before bed.

Our nightly walks became something of a ritual for us, though we tried not to rut in the mud like beasts too often, and helped the time outside of class pass more quickly. As we were a good bit ahead of our year mates, we had a considerable amount of free time to pursue our own interests. Mine were Fleur, runic magic, and dueling magic, in that order (though Fleur was really quite a ways ahead of the other two). We did spend a little time helping out our year mates with their work, but other than that, there was little to do aside from preparing for the sixth year exams.

Though Beauxbatons was a seven year school, the real graduation point occurred at the end of sixth year with the French Academic Resolution Test (well, that's what it would translate to, anyway… the French ministry would not be happy if they knew what the acronym for that stood for in English). Seventh year was used for embarking on the path to a mastery, taking profession specific training, and other activities that would help one transition from an academic role to a professional role. Even the idle rich had estate management and diplomacy classes to fill their time.

Monsieur Bataille quickly became my favorite teacher, as I joined both his dueling club and his fencing club. I'd taken a few rudimentary lessons in fencing, but it was mostly on the 'don't poke out your own eye' level. I'd never spent much time with physical training, but I liked to get all worn out so I could make Fleur massage me. Alright, I liked any activity that ended with Fleur's hands on my body, but variety is the spice of life.

I gained muscle mass at a frightening rate after I figured out how to enhance the effects of the training with magic. I don't know how normal wizards function without being able to sense the ebb and flow of magic around them… it must be like a blind man painting a portrait. He can make the marks on the canvas, but he will never be able to understand the reasons behind them or the full beauty of them. When I realized that Fleur was the same way, it saddened me to no end. Eventually, I resolved to figure out a way to share my gift with her, but I'd had no luck so far.

The year continued in a blur. Christmas brought our reunion with the other Delacours, and I was almost surprised at how much I'd missed them. I actually cried when I hugged little Gabby for the first time in four months. It'd only been four months, but it seemed like she'd grown several inches in that time.

When I'd first come to stay with the Delacours, Gabby had been a scrawny little thing of six. Now she was going on nine and was turning from cute to attractive before our eyes. She was the closest thing to a sibling that I had, after she'd gotten over her initial crush. I know I'm a great catch, but if she wound up half as pretty as her sister, she'd have no trouble finding a good man.

I'd be politically correct and say 'or woman', but the Veela genes were already emerging in her and Veela just don't swing that way for mates. I hadn't researched it heavily at that point, but the way everything I'd read was very careful about how it phrased that made me wonder if there wasn't something else going on with it. Until I got a chance to research it, I couldn't think of a good reason not to have dreams about Fleur and two or three of our year mates having a oil wrestling competition with me as the prize. Of course, it always ends in a tie and they share…

Wait, where was I? Oh, yeah. Christmas was nice.

After that, the spring passed just as quickly, up to May and the exams. Fleur and I managed very high scores, to no one's real surprise. The entire class did, as well. Of the seven of us, we held six of the top ten scores in the country. Fleur was number one nationally and I was close behind her at number three. I will take the fact that I held back a little on the exams to my grave. She'd rip my boys straight off if she found out.

For the summer before our seventh year, Fleur and I had been invited to attend the Quidditch World Cup in England. I wasn't much of a Quidditch fan, but Fleur's friend Evelyn was enthusiastic about the whole thing so we decided to go. Before that, however, we went on a two week excursion to Italy.

It took some doing, but I managed to set up a little surprise at a ski village in the Alps. As Fleur and I snuggled close on a massive bearskin rug before a fireplace, sipping wine, I turned to face her.

"Fleur, my love, we've known each other for years now. You might have been like a sister to me if you hadn't been such an amazing kisser," I said, smirking. Her blush was vibrant even in the flickering firelight. "I've spoken to your father and… well, he approves, so I just wanted to ask you if you'd, please, consent to… you know…"

Fleur's look of confusion faded to one of amusement as she watched me completely butcher a perfect setup. I finally managed to squeak out "Marry me?" and produce a rather nice ring which had once belonged to Fleur's great-grandmother. Fleur blinked back tears and laughter at the same time as she threw herself into my arms giving me an answer without words.

The grin didn't leave my face until we took a rather nauseating portkey back home a week later. We were only there one night before we left to meet up with Evelyn and her family. Together, we caught an international portkey set to take us straight to the Cup. The English ministry had set up a small customs station there and we passed through that before finding our plots and pitching a couple of wizarding tents.

It was around that time that Evelyn noticed Fleur's ring and let loose with the kind of high pitched squeal only noticed by teen girls and small furry mammals. There was a round of congratulations and hugs and my grin came back in full force as her parents made a last minute change to the tent arrangements. Instead of all the men being in one tent and women in the other, it would be kids in one and parents in the other. Each tent had two rooms, which meant that someone would have to share…

Oh, yes.

Later, I heard that it was one of the greatest Quidditch matches of all time. At the time, however, I don't think I noticed that it was even going on. My mind was already back in the tent with Fleur.

Once the snitch was caught by some guy named Crumb or something, we made a beeline for our lodging. We either left Evelyn behind or she decided to linger a bit elsewhere as we started shedding clothing the moment the flap to the tent closed. We dashed for the room we'd claimed earlier and I hastily summoned all the fallen articles in behind us. As soon as the last item sailed past, I threw a large number of locking charms on the door and turned around to find my fiancé wrapped in a sheet and nothing else save a very eager smile.

"I had my mother remove the chastity charm," she purred and my mouth went dry as my hands started to shake as I crept toward her.

"Are you sure?" I asked, not daring to believe that we were about to do what I thought we were about to do.

"More than anything else in my life, Jean. You will be my husband soon, but I want you to take me now."

I needed no more encouragement as I rushed forward, pushing her back to the bed as my lips found hers. We didn't jump straight into the act, of course, but it couldn't have been more than half an hour before we were in position for that last first plunge.

"You're sure?" I whispered, my lips only inches from hers.

"Yes, take me, my love," she purred again, and I could feel her body heat against me.

"I love you," I whispered and started to move forward.

Have I talked about my luck lately?

It was at that moment that the screams started outside.

Talk about ruining a perfect moment.

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**Author's Note #2 – The Revenge:** "French" names aren't meant to be serious names. Traduisez means "translate" and Bataille means "battle". JKR used horrid names, so I can too!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** This chapter is… weird. Keep in mind that Harry realizes just how alone he is in his situation at a certain point and wants nothing so much as to escape.

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Blissful Amnesia

Chapter 5

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For about ten seconds, we held our positions, completely rigid. For my part, I was wishing silently that it'd just been someone being rather enthusiastic about their celebrations. When the screams didn't die down, that hope faded quickly and I heaved a massive sigh.

Fleur swore rather colorfully in French, which caused me to crack a grin. "We could, you know, hurry," I offered.

Her eyes narrowed and she pushed one delicate hand against my shoulder, shoving me back. "We will not be having a quickie for our first time, Jean. Get your pants on and let's go deal with whatever this is. Someone will be feeling quite a bit of pain if this is something stupid."

I nodded and walked backwards on my knees, wandlessly summoning my pants to my hand and struggling in to them. A pair of shoes followed and I grabbed my wand. By that point, Fleur had thrown on a sundress, without benefit of undergarments, and grabbed her own wand. We silently nodded to each other and crept out the tent flap.

Outside, the campsite had gone from organized chaos to just chaos. People were fleeing into the woods, and across the field came a knot of wizards levitating something above them. I cast a few charms and my eyesight sharpened in the dim light, giving me a view of four people being juggled in mid air by the wizards below.

It was the wizards, themselves, that made my breath catch.

"Death Eaters," I pronounced and felt a cold rage grip me. Not only had these wizards just ruined what was meant to be one of the greatest moments in my life, but these were the bastards that had killed some kid named Harry Potter's parents. Their agenda had also been responsible for the death of Fleur's aunt, who had lived in England in the '70s. She'd had the audacity to have impure blood on British soil, as they termed it.

"Jean, we should run to the woods," Fleur whispered into my ear, but she made no move to pull me that way. She had somehow sensed that I wouldn't go.

"Fleur," I said in a low voice. "I am about to do something rash and possibly foolish. I love you more than life itself, but I also trust you. It would mean a lot to me for you to run and hide so that you would remain safe… but if you wish to join me, I will not stop you."

Fleur didn't budge. I'd have been surprised if she had.

"Very well then. Remember, this is no duel," was the only thing I said as I cast a few quick spells on myself. The first spell was a disillusionment charm, almost as good as true invisibility in the dim light. The second spell was a variant of the Protean charm that gave me constant awareness of Fleur's location. Third came a weak luck charm, the best that direct magic could do. Lastly, I cast a weak but long lasting shield charm. It wouldn't stop anything more powerful than a schoolyard jinx, but it would protect me from shrapnel and most physical projectiles.

Fleur copied me, in no small part because we'd learned these techniques together.

Together, we ghosted forward, wands at the ready. As we got nearer, we could hear the rowdy chanting from the Death Eaters and soon realized that they were drunk. I smiled a cold hard smile at that information.

There was about a score of them, and we were but two. I noticed a number of wizards in Ministry robes moving toward the black robed Death Eaters, but none of them looked like they wanted to fire the first spell. I took a step toward Fleur and muttered, "Ministry around us might be friendly fire. Red sparks for trouble, blue for retreat."

She might have nodded, but I couldn't tell.

I waited for another minute and five more black robes joined the crowd as the Ministry continued to hesitate.

"In three," I muttered and moved to the side of Fleur so that we weren't right together. I continued moving even as I started chanting spells, sending them in rapid succession into the milling crowd of black robed, white masked men.

Now, there's a lot of debate on what spell one should lead off with in a fight. The truly dark throw killing curses, the ruthless use bone shattering hexes, and the humane use stunners. I kind of like bone vanishing hexes, myself. The recovery is long and painful, but the spells are not immediately fatal. Even if you vanish a skull or a ribcage, there's still a window of about five minutes during which medical assistance can save the person's life. If you hit a Muggle with one, that goes down to a minute or less, but wizards are a tougher breed.

A bone shattering hex tends to shred the surrounding organs, making it a much messier and more likely to be fatal. Of course, it's also very impressive and can do an amazing amount of demoralization to your foes.

I hit with maybe three spells before the first of the Death Eaters reacted and landed two more before I had to put thought to defense. Because I wasn't exactly visible, I opted to keep moving as quickly as I could while using summoned items to block spells. It was the least flashy way to avoid injury I could think of.

Fleur had gotten two or three good spells in before having to resort to protecting herself. Unfortunately, she'd used a shielding spell and her position was rapidly determined, forcing her to take shelter behind an old well.

The Ministry wizards had finally sprung into motion, though they seemed more interested in helping the now aimlessly floating Muggles than assisting Fleur and I with the attack. I found myself pinned down a few seconds later and decided that I'd had enough action for the day and cast a spell straight up that caused a brilliant blue firework to explode in midair.

The minor luck spell held as I dodged a couple of rather ugly hexes from the black robes and moved away. The limits of the minor spell must have reached their limit though, as a red stunner caught me from behind. The last thing I thought before losing consciousness was that the spell had to have come from one of the Ministry stooges.

The next thing I knew, I was suffering that 'suddenly awake' sensation of being hit with an enervate spell. Of their own volition, my eyes shot open and I tried to sit up, only to find myself magically bound, flat on the floor of a tent somewhere. My eyes quickly locked on the form of a man in robes which I had learned to identify as those of a British Auror.

"Name?" the man asked. I pressed my lips into a thin line and didn't say anything as I tried to decide how much trouble I was in.

"Name?" he repeated, looking annoyed.

I realized that there was no point in staying quiet and mumbled, "Jean Dupont."

The man blinked at me twice and said, "That's your real name?"

"Yessir," I said, realizing that the Auror had caught on to the fact that my name was the French equivalent of John Doe.

"What were you doing here today, Mr. Dupont?"

"Watching a Quidditch game. Trying to get lucky with my fiancé," I replied in a monotone. I really wasn't in the mood for twenty questions. "Have you seen her, by the way? Blond girl, about my height?"

"Anything else, Mr. Dupont?" he asked, completely ignoring my question.

"There might have been an incident with some Death Eaters. I'm a little foggy on the details right now."

"Mr. Dupont, several witnesses have come forward saying that you were casting bone vanishing hexes on a number of people. A scan of your wand has confirmed that," he said slowly. I could tell that something wasn't quite right. The way he said things was very precise, which set off alarm bells in my head. This is where an inexperienced crook would spill the beans.

"You don't say? Have they said anything about what those people might have been doing at the time?" I supplied as little detail as I could. I had a feeling that there was something behind this line of questioning I wasn't going to like.

"Mr. Dupont, two wizards died today, as a result of having their rib cages vanished. Given that you were seen casting the same type of spells…" he trailed off as though expecting a denial. I didn't give him one.

"What happened to the Muggles, then?"

Again, the blinking. I'm not sure why that one caught him by surprise, but he had to consult a clipboard before answering. "There were two Muggles killed and one injured. He was healed and Obliviated. Another was uninjured and Obliviated."

"Why make a point of mentioning the two wizards that died and leave the Muggles out of it?" I asked, genuinely curious.

The Auror bristled. "The Muggles were not killed by hexes. The wizards were."

"I think I would like to speak to someone from my country's embassy. I do think you are trying to imply I attacked someone without cause," I said. For some reason, this guy seemed intent on making me out as a murderer. Well, screw that.

I was looking at his wand tip in the next instant. "Listen here, you little-"

"Auror Dawlish, I believe that will be enough," came another voice, causing the man to back off. I'm rather glad that it did because I was just about to wandlessly whack him in the jimmy.

"Professor, Minister," the Auror said, nodding to each of two figures in turn as they came into the tent. He exchanged a few quiet words with the two of them about me (nothing flattering, I assure you) and made a hasty retreat.

"Ah, so you must be the young man who caused such a commotion last night," the older of the two, apparently a professor said. "I am Albus Dumbledore, and my companion is the Minsiter of Magic, Mr. Cornelius Fudge."

I kept my face neutral, but I was ready to crawl out of my own skin to beat a hasty escape. If there were two people I didn't want handling my fate, these were them. Professor 'Give Him to the Muggles' Dumbledore and Minister 'Buy My Support' Fudge. Yippee.

I gave my name again, along with a short but somewhat vague account of the events of the previous night. I was careful not to admit to anything. Dumbledore listened closely while Fudge just stood there gripping his hat in his hands nervously.

"And my fiancé. Is she alright?" I asked.

"Ms. Delacour is alright, Mr. Dupont. I am, however, afraid that she may be in a good deal of trouble for the events of last night."

My eyes hardened and I could see Fudge take a step back from me. "Explain."

"Mr. Dupont, there are laws in Britain that expressly forbid non-humans attacking wizards. Because your fiancé is-," Fudge rushed in to say.

I stopped him cold with a glare. "I would suggest you not finish that thought."

"What Minister Fudge is trying to say, Jean, is that there are some who wish to have her prosecuted for what she did last night," Dumbledore said, but I could tell he was rather unhappy about it. At least that was one point in his favor.

"But we all realize that those were Death Eaters, right?"

"There were no-" Fudge said, bristling with anger.

"The people who were causing that commotion last night were dressed as Death Eaters and torturing a group of Muggles, yes," Dumbledore broke in, frowning at Fudge openly. "There was even a dark mark cast in the sky some time after you were stunned."

"And, because of that it's going to be hard to make real trouble for me so you've decided that it'd be easier to get my fiancé in trouble," Harry concluded. "Has her father been notified? I'm sure he would like a few words with you about this. French law is very different on that subject."

"You aren't in France," the Minister growled.

"Only because you will not release us," I retorted. "How about this, you release us and send us back to France. We will do our best never to set foot in Britain again and we will call it even. We will not even go telling our story of how you were more concerned about Death Eaters than for people who might have been willing to stand up against them to the press."

The Minister looked to be contemplating it before he suddenly turned and walked out of the tent. Dumbledore remained and gave a small smile. "I believe that your proposal shall be taken, Mr. Dupont. Mr. Fudge, for all of his flaws, will recognize that he is in the wrong this time and surely does not wish to prosecute someone with that the public might find sympathetic."

He waved his wand and a pair of plush armchairs appeared in the tent, as my bonds fell away. I suppose it would have impressed the rabble.

"Now, why don't we sit and have a discussion. I am most interested in hearing why you felt the need to jump into a fight like that one."

Seeing no other choice, I sat and told him a staggering web of half-truths and distortions. He either bought it or didn't care that I was lying because he spent the next half hour giving me a good natured lecture on how attacking with killing intent was wrong and that everyone should be given a chance at redemption.

I almost asked him if redemption is what led him to giving a child to Vernon, but held my tongue.

After what seemed like forever, the tent flap opened and Fleur was ushered in, her wrists and ankles in heavy iron shackles. It took all of the self control I had not to fly into a rage at that sight. The bonds were soon released and the two of us presented with a short length of rope which had been charmed as an international portkey.

We were told, essentially, to take the rope and get out of their country. We were more than happy to comply.


	6. Chapter 6

Blissful Amnesia

Chapter 6

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I was shaking when we landed. The war of emotions within me was fierce. I was still angry about the way the Brits had dared to treat Fleur, disturbed by the fact that their Ministry appeared intent on covering up the fact that there were Death Eaters involved, and relived that we were back home safely. I was also more than a little disconcerted by my encounter with Dumbledore.

I don't know what I'd been expecting, really. Maybe I'd thought he would curl the end of his beard around a finger and cackle maniacally at me or something. I wasn't expecting him to be likable. He even seemed to make a lot of sense when I talked to him, which was even scarier.

The fact that I'd killed two people, or at least could have killed them, didn't register with me until much later. I'm still not sure whether or not that was a good thing.

Anyway, Fleur and I ended up in custody of a group of French Aurors within seconds of arriving back in France. Apparently our government was involved in this mess somehow and I began more and more to regret the fact that I hadn't thrown a shirt on before leaving our tent. I could tell that Fleur wasn't happy about her own attire, either.

Some time passed, though I'm really not sure how much, and we fell asleep huddled together in the corner of a small room with a rickety table and three chairs. We'd been left there to wait for God only knows what.

The sound of a door opening woke us up. I wasn't altogether surprised to see Jules walking in, looking like the victim of a rather rough night. I started to say something but he raised a hand and shook his head wearily. "Save it for later. Let's go home."

A short Portkey ride later, and we were back at the Delacour home. Jules wasted little time pulling the two of us into his study.

"Can you please tell me what possessed you to attack a group of people, regardless of what they were doing, on foreign soil in the middle of the night?" he asked, his voice sounding a lot older and weaker than normal. "Nevermind. I know you weren't thinking."

I had the good grace to look guilty because, well, I was. Jules softened after a minute of staring at us harshly. "Look, I know you're both young and impulsive… though until tonight I'd thought Jean was the most unique child in the world to appear neither."

I really did look embarrassed at that. Attacking those Death Eaters like that might not have been my greatest moment. "Are we going to be in trouble?" I asked, finally. I was really expecting to hear him say yes.

"You specifically? Maybe. Right now, we're on the verge of an international incident. There was an emergency session of the ICW called right after the fiasco and there were some rather heated words exchanged. I've never seen a man blow through political capital as quickly as Minister Fudge did, but somehow he managed to convince a closed session of the Security Council to allow his government to handle the matter internally. If he wasn't terrified of the details of the event coming into public light, the two of you would probably have been on trial by the time the sun came up."

My eyes widened at the thought. Fleur and I had really come close to serious trouble.

Jules tossed something he'd been carrying on the table in front of us. It looked like an advance run of the Daily Prophet. My eyes caught the headline and I skimmed the lead story.

**Tragedy Strikes at World Cup**

_After a game which many are calling the greatest in living memory, last night's world cup festivities were marred by a horrible accident. One of the Cup attendees, a Germen citizen that Aurors are identifying only as a Mr. Sundenbock, apparently cast a variation of the Confundus hex which caused many people at the event to believe that they were under attack by a group of Death Eaters (followers of the late You-Know-Who). During the confusion, several tents were trampled, with property damage expected to reach into the thousands of galleons._

_Tragically, two of the ministry workers attempting to contain the confused crowd suffered accidents of an unspecified nature. Mr. Abraham Nebbish and Mr. Josiah Cipher gave their lives during best to safeguard the lives of the public. We at the Prophet want to offer our condolences to the families of these braves souls. Two Muggles were also killed. Story Continues on page 3._

Two facts finally clicked in my head. "The two Death Eaters that died worked for the Ministry."

"Yes, and the fact that they were killed while torturing Muggles does not bode well for Fudge's administration. The ICW has demanded that he conduct a purge of his people, looking for marked Death Eaters. They've even assigned two of their people to oversee it to ensure that it's thorough and fair. Only the fact that those two were left over from the last administration let him get away with it."

"Won't the Germans object?" Fleur asked, piping up for the first time since we'd gotten home.

"No. It's costing Britain a fortune in forgiven debts, though. France is benefiting in that fashion, as well, or we would have raised a bigger issue with the whole affair. It's all being swept under the rug."

I sat back, somewhat relieved. "At least it's over for us. We don't have to go back to that accursed island."

Jules shook his head slowly and produced another document. This time, it was an official looking treaty with a seal attached to the end.

"Not quite, I'm afraid."

Fleur skimmed the document with me. "Tri-Wizard Tournament? What's that?"

"It's something we haven't done in a very long time. The three oldest schools in our region, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang take part in it. It's been in the works for two years now, and we just finished the treaty last week. Things like making sure that Veela retain their full rights while in Britain had to be addressed." Fleur and I slumped again.

"Well, there's no way it's going to happen now, right?" I asked, though the look Jules had been giving me told me that it wasn't likely to go that way.

"If only. There are a number of treaties which are riding on the completion of the tournament. If the British are willing to make a few concessions, I cannot see us backing out of it."

We talked for a while more, but I was so tired that I can never recall what was said. Things weren't looking good. My actions, and I don't blame Fleur for them, so they were my actions, had almost caused an international incident in a country I was about to have to return to. Worse than that, I'd drawn an alarming amount of attention to myself from the Minister of Magic and Dumbledore. It's hard to think of people I would less want interested in me.

Exhausted as we were, Fleur and I collapsed on her bed, snuggled in tight and went straight to sleep. In the morning, we decided to throw caution to the wind and took a long hot bath together, with a rather rejuvenating amount of caressing and fondling. Apolline greeted us at lunch with a hug and a stern warning about doing stupid things. She didn't say anything about our lodging for last night so I took that as tacit permission.

The story that Jules had shown us the night before appeared in the French paper as well as the Daily Prophet and I wondered to myself exactly what this cover-up had cost Fudge. I hoped it had been a lot.

Things settled into a routine of sorts. With the tournament coming up, Fleur and I spent a significant amount of our time either researching the event or practicing our spellwork. As we had completed our sixth year exams, we were legally allowed to do so, of course. We even went for our Apparition licenses.

One might think that we'd have leapt straight into bed with each other after our interruption, but it took almost a week for it to feel right. I managed to wrangle a cottage on the beach, some candles, and some wine. Let's just say that I really, really enjoyed that. It wasn't perfect, but first times never are. We did keep on practicing until we were pretty sure we had the hang of it, though.

Days melted away and finally we returned to Beauxbatons. Fleur had received the silver Head Girl pen and did her duties happily. Because we were engaged seventh years, we found that our quarters had been moved to be adjacent to each other. The fact that there was a small secret passage in the back and the fraternization charms appeared to have been disabled was an added bonus. I have heard stories about how repressed the British are, and let me say that my people have a much better way of doing things.

The opening dinner included an announcement of the tournament that was approaching and the school was almost immediately swept up with the excitement of it all. Almost overnight, the school divided up into camps backing this person or that to be our school's champion. I wasn't exactly sure that the process was supposed to work that way, but the current was a natural one.

What really surprised me, though, was the fact that Fleur and I were the overwhelming favorites. As there was no way I wanted to face any more scrutiny than I was already under, I announced firmly that I would have no part in it. Most of my support went to Fleur and she was quickly all but crowned the champion for Beauxbatons.

We talked about it at night and couldn't come up with a reason why she shouldn't compete, if the tournament were relatively safe. What we'd seen during our research showed that the previous tournaments hadn't been, but we couldn't believe that the English would dare to allow deaths when they were already under international pressure to clean up their acts.

Time rolled on until we loaded up Madame Maxime's carriages and flew off to Hogwarts. Only the sixth and seventh years went, along with three of our Professors.

Our one visit to Britain had been much farther south and during a warmer month so I was rather shocked at how cold Hogwarts was. I immediately placed warming charms around myself and my love as we exited the carriage. The looks that many of those filthy boys cast upon my angel caused me to seethe inside, and I would have hexed them right then if it were not for my love's reassuring hand on my arm.

Two boys, one with bright red hair and a red tie and another with blond hair and a green tie were the worst of the lot. They were openly drooling over her like she was a piece of meat. Savages.

Anyway, we formed up on our Headmistress and moved out of the way as a ship appeared in the lake, bringing the Durmstrang contingent. I cast an appraising eye about as the three schools stood together in the biting cold and realized that the French students were a far better sort than the others. The British were slovenly, with some showing a disgusting lack of etiquette while the Slavs were brutish and nasty looking. Even the way they stood spoke of a culture where might and right were the same thing.

The three schools retreated inside and the Goblet of Fire was revealed. There was a rather crude meal of British swill and we returned to our carriage for the night. Fleur and I shared a room, to no one's objections, and our lovemaking had a frantic edge to it that I can't really explain. I think I needed to assure myself that this was where I belonged and that no one was about to take me away from the life that I loved so very much.

We had breakfast and morning lessons in the carriages. That afternoon, Fleur placed her name in the goblet and we tried our best to stomach a lunch of British 'cuisine'. A number of the silly Hogwarts boys and girls approached us, but we feigned poor English and they left us alone for the most part. In reality, my English was flawless and Fleur's very similar when she wanted it to be.

After lunch, we were free to explore the grounds a little, and they were… quaint. The colossal forest filled with dark creatures was certainly an interesting design decision, but the rest seemed woefully pedestrian by Beauxbatons standards.

The sun started to set and we joined our fellows inside for the presentation of the champions. I'd had a sinking feeling all day, but I'd been ignoring it. Turned out I should have trusted those feelings.

Anyway, out came three parchments, Fleur, Crumb (that Quidditch guy from the Cup), and Diggory. That was fine. What happened next wasn't.

As Dumbledore started to speak, I felt an oppressive magical force settle around me. I struggled to avoid it, to push it away, but it was relentless. I was pushing with every ounce of magical strength I could muster and the flames from the goblet were surging higher and higher. A hazy dome of energy formed around me as I fought the blasted thing, but it was just too strong. Whatever was assaulting me was rapidly overwhelming me.

Through the haze I could make out other students moving away from me and some other figures in the distance moving about. What they were doing, I don't know, but nothing helped me stop that magical assault.

Finally, my resistance crumbled and I felt something settle over me. Someone without my senses likely never would have noticed the whole thing, but I had and I'd fought. I'd fought and lost.

The flame from the goblet died down and another scrap of paper fluttered down. I collapsed against the scorched edge of the table and dimly heard Dumbledore announce in a strangled voice "Harry Potter."

So much for my cover.

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**Author's Note: **There are two more chapters of this story written, and I'm going to finish editing them and get them up here if nothing else. Will I write more? Maybe. I do like this story a lot.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** The first time I posted chapter 6, I got much the same reaction as I the reviews I've gotten hear. People sure are quick to jump to conclusions... As for the "going to Hogwarts" angle, it was a decision I made a while ago that I still stand behind. If I left them not going back to England, the story gets boring quickly and would best be summed up "they never went to Hogwarts and they lived happily ever after. The end." ... I agree that there's a good story that could be written in there, but I just don't have the globe trotting experience to make it worthwhile (and most Harry comes to the US stories are pretty bad).

Anyway, enough chatter. Here's Chapter 7, with the answers to a great many questions. Also, there's a very shallow and unflattering depiction of Ron and Ginny in here. I should have revised it to be a little more substantial, but they're not playing real roles in the story so I left it alone.

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Blissful Amnesia

Chapter 7

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The haze left behind by the settling contract didn't linger very long, but I was disoriented enough not to protest as I was ushered into a small chamber where the other champions were gathered. My mind was a raging torrent of questions, first and foremost among them being a pretty urgent 'what the hell is going on'.

The cup had beaten me in a test of wills, which rather galled my ego. I mean, I am strong. Very strong when it comes to less-than-instant magical effects, and the cup had overwhelmed me. Whatever link it had used to secure that contract on me had been stronger than just a name scribbled on a piece of paper. Someone had done something specific and powerful to it in order to bring me out of hiding. The worst part was that I'd been helpless to avoid it.

I decided immediately that when I figured out the identity of the perpetrator of this, I was going to kick them in the baby-maker.

That immediate concern obscured the more long term worry of how I was going to deal with being unmasked, which was just as well. I was already building up to a towering rage, and thoughts about how my nice orderly life was going to crumble would not have helped my mood any.

Fleur saw me enter the room and immediately knew something was wrong. God bless her, she had her arms around me in an instant and was running her hands through my hair, calming me the best way she knew how. My "Jean-goes-apeshit" meter ratcheted down a few notches from that.

Anyway, I'm sure we confused the hell out of the other two champions as we stood there for several minutes. Eventually, six people, all at various levels of distress, pushed into the room. First was Dumbledore, and it took me only one look at his face to know that he had a hand in this mess. Second was Madame Maxime, who looked livid. Third was the stoic headmaster from Durmstrang. Two Brits that I later learned were from the Ministry of Magic came along just after the first three. The sixth is the one that looked most out of place. He was a heavily scared older man, with one false eye and a simple wooden leg. For all of the world, he looked like someone who'd survived jumping into a lion den wearing a meat sweater.

Then again, maybe he was the lion. Judging by the look on his face, he'd just caught the canary.

I missed the first part of Madame Maxime's rant, but I picked it up somewhere around "impotent tree slug spawned British". I have to say, I had no idea she could curse so well. It was an education of an entirely different sort. For instance, I didn't even know that female Centaurs needed sanitary products. I kind of doubt that they would have accepted Dumbledore's beard for one, though. That didn't seem at all sanitary, especially since Madame Maxmine specified that his head should still be attached to it.

The utter absurdity of some of the anatomical suggestions she was making actually did a lot to calm my anger. It's hard to maintain a rage when you're trying to figure out exactly how one buggers oneself with a doxie. I was still going to hurt someone very badly, but I probably wouldn't be murdering anyone outright.

When our Headmistress, bless her soul, finally calmed down, one of the Ministry flunkies started asking a bunch of questions. If they had a part in this scheme, they were really good at playing dumb. Of course, having met the British, I doubt much very much the difficulty of such an act. Dumbledore kept glaring at the man with the scars and I had a good feeling that the he was going to end up catching the blame for this one. Around that time, I caught sight of the scrap of parchment Dumbledore still held, forgotten by his side.

"Let me see that," I growled as the argument hit a lull and rather roughly summoned it to me. I overpowered the spell and took him by surprise, which resulted in no resistance to my demand. The scrap zoomed toward me and I examined it, intent on finding out what had been used to bind me to this stupid tournament.

I was baffled for a moment. The parchment was perfectly ordinary. Whoever had written my name on it hadn't even done a very good job of doing so. Their penmanship was atrocious.

Was a badly scrawled name all it took to get that blasted goblet to bind someone? Who in their right mind would use such a thing for a school tournament?

The bad lighting kept me from noticing for the first few seconds that the color of the ink used to write my name was off. I peered closer.

"Blood. Some fucker used my blood to write this," I growled and looked up to see the scarred man smirking. "You," I hissed through clenched teeth.

The man just smiled at me, showing all-too-stereotypical British teeth. He looked like an abused Jack-o-Lantern.

Only Fleur's hand on my shoulder stopped me from drawing my wand and hexing out the rest of his teeth.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore declared, silencing the others in the room with a little bit of imposing magic. Even as angry as I was, I could appreciate the trick and filed it away for later reference. "I am afraid that my colleague, Professor Moody, has rather rashly decided to enact a plan which we had discarded as being too dangerous."

"Worked, didn't it?" the man grated out with a voice that matched his face.

"That it may have, but there was a good reason why the plan was shelved, Alastor. If Mr. Potter hadn't been free to come when the Goblet compelled him, he could have been injured by the magic in it. Relics like that are not to be trifled with… the magic tends to mutate over time."

The man, apparently a professor, dimmed a little, but kept his grin. I wanted to punch him very badly, but I was mildly concerned about my hand. If I scratched it on one of those teeth, I might lose it to infection before I could have it tended to. Have I mentioned how much I hate the British?

"Now, Mr. Potter, as it seems that you have been entered into this contest against your will-"

"Dupont," I interrupted. I wasn't in the mood for this crap.

That caused Dumbledore to pause for a moment. "Mr. Potter?"

"Dupont. My name is Jean Dupont," I growled back. "Harry Potter, whoever that might be, is dead. He was beaten to death by Vernon Dursley. The man that, I might add, you put in him the clutches of."

"Mr. Potter, I assure you that the Goblet would not have worked if you were not-"

"It worked because someone," I hissed the last, "used my blood on a bit of parchment to lay a heavy piece of magic on me. But, then again, there are four of us? How does that even work. Did you just tell the Goblet to pick four? How many of you are in on this? Where did you get my fucking blood in the first place, anyway… you didn't… oh, but you did. You must have found it at the Dursleys'."

The Ministry flunkies cowered away from my gaze as I got more and more angry. Even Fleur's hand wasn't keeping that calm as I started to piece together what had happened. Even old or dried blood retained a link to its owner, which is one reason why wizards were so careful about cleaning up any they might leave behind after an accident. If the blood wasn't freshly shed, it took more of it, but I'm pretty sure I left enough at the Dursleys to write a short novel. As I growled at the assembly, I admit I was using the trick that Dumbledore used to make his voice cut like a knife, and I threw in a few tricks of my own to make me more menacing.

Dumbledore wasn't fazed, though I don't suppose my tricks would have done much to intimidate him. "Mr. Potter, I am sorry that things have worked out like this, but I'm sure you will see that they are for the best. Your parents wanted-"

"Don't you dare talk to me about my parents, you piece of filth," I broke in, rapidly losing what little restraint I still held on to. I don't know why it hit me so hard, but it did. I don't really consider myself Harry Potter, but his parents had been noble and had given their lives for him. That had to count for a certain measure of respect. This man invoking their name after something nasty like this was like spitting on their graves. "Now tell me what this contract you have bound me to requires so that I can deal with it and return to a civilized place where buggering your cousin isn't the national pastime."

I might have been overdoing it on the venom a little, but I was sick and tired of this crap. I'd rolled over after the debacle at the World Cup, just glad to be out of there. Now I'd been trapped in the arsehole of Europe for who knows how long by a blood contract of all things.

"Mr. Pot-err.. Dupont," Dumbledore began and corrected himself. I don't think he expected me to show the level of raw hatred for him that I did. I can guarantee you that it was completely genuine. "The Goblet represents a magical contract that, by voluntarily entering your name, compels you to attend and perform in three tasks. If you do not attend the tasks and make a fair effort, there is a penalty attached."

"But it wasn't voluntary," I ground out again. "And what determines a fair effort?"

"The magic of the contract judges it," Dumbledore supplied. "As for your entry, I'm afraid that it the magic of the goblet was tricked. By using your blood and a carefully put together string of charms, you were entered without your consent." I knew exactly who had put together that string of charms, just from the look on his face. I waved for him to continue and he went on. "The penalty for failure, when the Goblet was designed, was a curse that resulted in impotence for about ten years. The reason why the plan to use the Goblet to track you down was shelved is that I am concerned that so many years of use may have stiffened the penalties, perhaps significantly. Professor Moody has, I believe, taken it upon himself to enact the plan despite the potential complications."

I gave him a curt nod as that made sense after a fashion. Impotence would have been a major thing back then (hell, considering I really liked boffing Fleur, it was a major thing then, too). As magic was a force susceptible to the power of belief, years of use with people believing it would impose a harsh penalty might have made it worse. I didn't want to risk it. I gritted my teeth and took a few deep breaths.

I think doing so made the rest of the room relax a little bit because when I suddenly sprang forward, straight toward the grizzled old bastard. To this day, I don't know if he was really slower than me or if he let me have the hit as payback for the risk he'd taken with me. I like to the think the former, but it could have been the later, instead. Anyway, my leg contacted his crotch with as much force as I could muster, right on the shin bone. His magical eye stopped spinning and his other one went straight inward before he collapsed bonelessly to the ground.

Somewhat satisfied, I stepped back and heaved a deep sigh before fixing Dumbledore with another cold level gaze. "You will inform my Headmistress of everything I need to know. I shall be in my quarters trying to figure out why I shouldn't start hexing people. Fleur?" I asked and offered her my arm. I really couldn't stand to be in that room any more and I desperately needed her comfort.

Her delicate hand slid around my elbow and we walked purposefully out of the room. We made it out the door and into the small chamber between the waiting room and the great hall before the emotional backlash of what had just transpired hit me. I pulled Fleur to me in a full hug, drawing strength from her as always. I muttered an "I love you" in her ear as we parted a few seconds later and cautiously made our way to the door.

I'd have really preferred to go a different way out, but this school was foreign to us and we had no idea how to get around. The path we'd entered by seemed the only real option.

By some fortunate miracle, the great hall was all but empty when we returned. Marcel was there waiting for us, along with a handful of professors from the host school. I guess my face still showed annoyance as the professors made no move to approach us as he walked over to our friend.

"Jean, have you cleared up the confusion?" Marcel asked in French, giving me a gentle smile. I really did like the lad. He had a good sense for when things need to be handled gently. He also had a sharp mind and had been suspicious of my lack of a past for over a year now, so was probably taking the surprise better than most.

"Alas, I'm afraid that the British ass gaskets have decided some things which I do not favor, including my participation in this tournament. I have expressed my displeasure quite emphatically and shall continue to do so as often as possible," I replied, a weary smile dancing across my lips. I looked forward to a few more incidents of testicular aggression in the near future. I'm not normally the type to go around crotch kicking faculty, but I figured that the British were just asking for it. Far be it from me not to oblige their requests.

"Well, then. Madame Maxime asked me to make sure that you could find your way back to the carriage. I think she expected you to come out before she did. The Durmstrang students and the rest of ours have returned to their lodging. The Hogwarts students are supposed to have done the same, but I suspect a few will be lurking around, intent on making an annoyance of themselves."

I snorted. Kicking someone in the crotch really does just let all the anger out, doesn't it? I wasn't really even mad at that point, just tired. "They would only be following in the example set for them by their leaders."

We set off for the carriages then, moving briskly through the hallways. We didn't get very far before we were pounced upon by a quartet of students with bright red hair and entirely too many freckles. Two of them looked to be twins, and they prattled on in some weird sort of shared speech which made me want to gouge out their voice boxes.

"Oi" "Are you really" "Harry Potter?" "Shouldn't" "you" "be a lot" "younger?"

It made my skin crawl and my wandhand itch. However, it wasn't as bad as the other two. The look the boy gave Fleur was nothing short of predatory. Now, if Fleur hadn't been able to reign in her Veela allure, something like that would be expected. Only, Fleur had maintained perfect control of her powers for over a year. She only projected when she wanted to. I highly doubt she wanted to at that moment, either.

The girl was giving me a very similar look, though I just ignored it. Once you've seen a "come hither" look from a horny Veela that really wants you, normal girls just don't have that much effect.

"Excuse us," Marcel said firmly in English and started to move around the group, but they were firmly blocking the corridor and babbling various things. Well, the twins were babbling, the girl was whining like a puppy and the boy was growling. That itch in my wandhand was getting worse.

Marcel tried again, but was still blocked. We could have retreated and tried another path, but I've already established that we didn't know our way around and doing so might get us really lost. Getting lost in a magical building is rarely a good idea.

We were eventually saved from having to make a decision when a female voice yelled "Weasleys! Detention for being out of bounds!"

The twins shared a look and immediately fled. The other two were either not as smart or were too intent on the objects of their desire to notice.

I was kind of expecting a professor, but what I got instead was a young girl of maybe fourteen. She would have been very pretty had it not been for the long scar which went from the left corner of her mouth up the side of her face to her hairline. Her brown hair was pulled back in a severe knot that looked to be all that contained it from bursting into a frizzy mess.

When the two weasels before us didn't budge, she brandished her wand and sent a pair of silent stunning spells at the two, felling them easily. "Sorry about that. We have a bit of a problem with the inbreeding around here," she apologized in fairly good French. My estimation of her went up another notch immediately.

I actually laughed at that and offered her my hand. "Jean Dupont," I offered. "My fiancé Fleur Delacour and our companion Marcel Dubois."

She took my hand firmly, not at all timidly, and shook it. "Hermione Granger. Sixth year Gryffindor prefect." She waved her wand and the two unconscious redheads rose into the air behind her. "I'm going to get these two idiots back to where they belong. Watch yourselves on the way out. I'd assume that anyone wearing a green tie has the potential to mean you harm."

She gave us a short salute with her wand and left, her two prisoners bobbing along behind her.

"That has to be the strangest thing I've ever seen," Marcel muttered, watching the girl go.

"Do you think their discipline is always so harsh around here?" Fleur asked after a few seconds.

"Somehow, I suspect that Ms. Granger is a special case. You saw that scar…" I muttered, knowing full well that scars were significant in the magical world. You didn't just get them by accident.

"I'm sure we'll find out later. Let us retire," Marcel noted and led us on to the Carriages. A small knot of students wearing green ties did try to intercept us, but we just kept walking and evaded them.

I was very glad to be able to collapse on my bed a little later, and even gladder to have Fleur collapse beside me. We were tired, but we were also teenagers so I should not have to explain what we did before falling asleep.

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**Author's Notes:** Hermione is… not canon!Hermione. Not having Harry around changed a lot of things.


	8. Chapter 8

Blissful Amnesia

Chapter 8

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I'm not the kind of gentleman that would go into details, but I will tell you this: my lovely fiancé can cross her ankles behind her head. We were a little late for breakfast the following morning and I was in a profoundly better mood than I probably should have been. In some ways, the fact that my secret was out was liberating. In many more ways, it was highly annoying.

The other students from Beauxbatons took it with grace. I'd even say that they bristled with pride that they had the "great Harry Potter" as one of their own, though my status as a seventh year student caused no small amount of confusion. France, which is not an inbred backwater like some places I could name, believed that actions were more important than actual numbers. I'd passed my sixth year exams and was thus an adult in their eyes. In fact, it was all well and legal because Jules, being the devious politician that he was, made sure that my identity wasn't really fake.

The French Ministry's magical branch of the DST had granted me classified asylum and issued me with a cover identity using all of the proper forms. Only Jules, the head of the DST, and the Minister actually knew about this, which is why no word had trickled back to Britain. These facts rapidly made their way into the hands of my fellow students and I said a few words as we shared a light breakfast in our carriages before the morning class session.

"You might have heard that I'm Harry Potter. I can't deny that. What I can tell you, is that in my heart I am and always will be Jean Dupont. That is the name I took for myself, and under that name I've learned to live, love, and laugh with help from all of you. I cannot help but mourn the life Harry Potter led, and was fated to on this barbaric island, and thank the fates for saving me from that. Vive la France," I said, toasting them with a glass of chilled juice. It was a little lame, I will admit, but the others grinned at the declaration and returned the toast. After that, things went back to something resembling normal with the French students.

Morning classes were a condensed version of our normal schooling at home. They were more along the lines of a guided tutoring session than a conventional class. Given the number of additional "teachers" we had on hand, getting some individual attention was easy. A great number of them were, in fact, French Aurors traveling in disguise to provide some additional security. Regardless of the treaties in place, we were rightfully wary of the security the British could provide. If the World Cup hadn't proven that, the fiasco the night before would have.

It was at lunch, when we joined the other schools in the Great Hall, when things started to get hectic. About twenty students from Hogwarts were watching along the path to the castle, apparently trying to get a glimpse of one of us. We went as a group, and I stayed near the middle of the pack with Fleur to avoid being singled out. It worked pretty well, but the yokels did point and whisper about us.

Inside, the situation was somewhat worse. The tables had been extended to accommodate the visiting students, but the place still felt crowded. The fact that many of the boys from Hogwarts and the male-dominated Durmstrang wanted to ogle the beautiful French maidens (and not so maidens) certainly didn't help. In fact, in such stunning company, I'm surprised that I got any attention at all.

There was a lot of whispering and glancing in my direction, more from the girls than the boys. They were eyeing me like something in a nature documentary. It made me nervous. A few students, mostly those with the green ties, were giving me looks of loathing. That was an almost refreshing change.

A short while in to the overly heavy meal, a blond boy approached me flanked by two stupid looking kids with no necks and too many muscles for their ages. He was wearing one of those green ties, which immediately put me on my guard. The fact that he was giving Fleur looks which I'm sure he thought were discreet didn't help either. I have seen better discretion from a drunken sailor freshly into port, but I digress.

"Harry Potter," he said and my eyes narrowed. How do you learn to ooze smug at fourteen years old? I mean, this kid was just spraying it everywhere. "My name is Draco Malfoy, and I just wanted to extend to you a hand in friendship on behalf of Hogwarts and the Slytherin House. I can help you find your way around here. Introduce you to the right sort of people."

"Right sort, Malfoy? Death Eater spawn, is what you mean," a harsh female voice cut in. "Maybe you and your daddy can show him how to buy your way out of prison while you're at it?" The kid and his goons turned to glare at the interruption before they suddenly started looking nervous instead. I turned, as well, and spotted the prefect from the night before giving Malfoy a death glare. She rolled her eyes at him and came in my direction. "Budge over, Dupont."

The bluntness of it, coupled with her utter verbal destruction of this kid that had just landed in my "prick" file, made me grin and I did just that. As I moved closer to Fleur, another girl with blond hair and a blue tie appeared from behind Hermione and sat down beside me. Hermione took a space just a bit down, right up against her.

I watched the blond kid's face flicker between anger and fear for a second before he closed his gaping mouth with an audible click and spun on his heel. I grinned and turned back to my two new bench mates. "Jean Dupont," I offered the blond girl. Her eyes were a lovely shade of blue, though they did protrude a bit more than I thought attractive. She offered me a dreamy smile in return.

"Are you really? Oh, I'm Luna Lovegood. I'm so glad you managed to escape from the Rotfangs. Daddy and I tried to find out where they were holding you, but they're very good at hiding things. Did they train you to fight against the Minister's heliopath army?"

I blinked at her a few times, trying to put together those words, but they made no sense to me. Hermione laughed at my confusion and placed a hand on the shoulder of the other girl who broke into a wide grin. "Sorry about that, her father edits the Quibbler, which is the finest source for news in England," she offered with a wink and switched to French. "She likes to make people squirm with the more colorful stories. Some of them are true, and most are based in fact of some sort. Many of them are just societal satire cleverly disguised as something fanciful."

"I do know a little bit of French," Luna muttered in very halting French. She reached up to put her hand over Hermione's and I took in their positioning. Unless I'd somehow lost my ability to read body language, they were very, very close.

We ate our lunch and chatted quietly amongst ourselves. Luna was very interesting, in a slightly-unhinged-from-reality sort of way. Hermione had the more dominant personality of the two and turned out to be blazingly intelligent. She was muggleborn, which had apparently caused her no end of trouble when she started Hogwarts. Luna mentioned that Malfoy had left her alone after he'd insulted her one too many times and had to go to the school nurse to have his wand "extracted". Her smirk when she said it made me laugh.

In the end, though, she was an exceptional student and had skipped two years of classes. Luna was a fourth year, herself, though she was a year Hermione's junior. I got a very strong feeling that Hermione was Luna's protector, best friend, and quite possibly more.

Lunch ended shortly after that and Hermione left to walk Luna to her next class. Fleur and I shared a knowing look and grinned. That afternoon, we had a charms class with the seventh year Hufflepuffs who were a rather timid crowd, but very nice. The charms professor, while he taught using a very different method than we were used to, really knew his stuff and we had a pretty good time.

Things slowly settled down after that. Fleur and I were still stared at a lot, but the random ambushes by fans had died down. Hogwarts students had learned that bothering either of us when we didn't want to talk to them was a very bad idea. Dumbledore had been giving me a wide berth ever since the night the champions were chosen, which is just as well. Moody, that's the scarred up guy who had entered my name, actually ran the other way when he saw me. After the second time I'd introduced his boys to my boots, he must have gotten the message about how displeased with him I was. If I thought I had a prayer of making them stick, I'd have tried to bring him up on charges. As it was, I just contented myself with the occasional senseless act of violence.

It'd taken me a couple of days to come to terms with it, but what Moody had done wasn't, in the strictest sense, illegal. He was a reserve British Auror, and an order had been issued when my disappearance had become common knowledge that Aurors were authorized to take some rather large liberties if it might bring about my return. It'd been stupid and dangerous, but it'd also been legal. I actually found that I could, at my most objective, understand why he'd decided to do it. That didn't stop me from holding a grudge, of course.

When we weren't in one class or the other, Fleur and I were training like mad for the tasks. Marcel and, somewhat surprisingly, Hermione and Luna, were helping us. I asked Hermione if it was really alright for her to be helping the champion from another school and she shrugged. "Cedric's alright, but he's never said more than three words to me at a time," she'd replied.

I knew the two girls didn't have many friends… alright, I knew that aside from each other, they had no friends. They were smart, funny, and clever. They were my kind of people. If Britain knew what was good for them, they'd try cloning the pair of them a thousand times over. So Fleur and I adopted them into our small inner circle.

From what Hermione had said, her job prospects in Britain after graduation were rather bleak because she was muggleborn. There was, of course, prejudice of that sort in France, but it wasn't so rampant or institutionalized. If two job applicants were about equal in all other respects, you could rely on blood status figuring in, but that was typically the extent of it.

After talking to Hermione, I quickly came to regard it as a personal mission to ensure that she had an opportunity to put her talents to use in some way. Even if I had to give her money from my own funds to start up a business, I had every confidence that it would be a good investment.

Both she and Luna were more mature than their age would suggest and I considered giving them the recipe for my aging potion, but eventually decided it would cause too many rumors. If they needed it to be taken seriously outside of school, though, I'd lend it to them.

Of course, things couldn't continue being as nice as they were. A couple of weeks after the champions were selected, a Hogwarts student with a camera around his neck came running up to Fleur and I as we walked toward the castle.

"Mr. Potter! Ms. Delacour! Mr. Bagman wants you in the castle for something. I think they want to take photographs," he babbled in English, panting a little from running half way down the path.

"Photographs?" Fleur asked as she took my arm, thwarting the half-planned escape I had in mind. "Does Madame Maxime know?"

"She's there already," the boy said, finally getting his wind back. "The other champions are all there, too."

I sighed loudly and went over the most likely scenario if I made a big deal out of refusing. It wouldn't make anything better though I still engaged in a brief rebellious fantasy as the thought of facing the press filled me with dread.

Fleur was more pragmatic about it and gave my arm a tug, pulling me toward the entrance. "You know if you don't give them a little, they'll just make it up," she reminded me softly in French. I knew that very well from some of the rather ridiculous stories about where I'd been in my absence and the details of my return which had been published in the Daily Prophet. Luna had been most upset that they'd managed to out-absurd the Quibbler on the topic.

"Fine, fine. I'm not making any promises that I won't hex anyone, though," I grumbled in the same language, and she gave me a small smile. My being outed could have spelled some serious complications for our lives together and getting some truth out there might help.

The cold got to me a little on the way up, so I wasn't really paying attention as we came through the door. Fleur gave a high pitched squeal and I found myself standing alone in a rather crowded room, staring after a retreating head of blond hair. I blinked a couple of times and realized that she was heading for a pair of figures that I recognized very well.

I hastened to follow. "Jules!" I cried, taking the man that had become a father to me in my arms and giving him a hug. I did the same for Apolline and found that my mood, which had been on a rather manic roller coaster of late, had soared.

A sudden pressure around my waist alerted me to the fact that the munchkin had made the trip, as well, and I tousled Gabrielle's hair with a wide smile. The five of us had a quick, but very intense reunion, as we waited for the "weighing of the wands" ceremony to begin.

To this day, I still have no clue what the actual purpose of that ceremony was, but they seemed to take it very seriously.

Things were going fine up until I found myself cornered by a reporter with the most atrocious glasses. She'd even managed to sneak up on me and nudge me into a small side room before I'd been able to protest.

The interview lasted about two minutes before I realized that her quill was writing far more than either of us was saying. A look at the parchment showed me that the quill had been charmed to take some considerable liberties with the truth.

Four quills later, she reluctantly ended the interview because of lack of materials. Her quills and parchment kept spontaneously combusting for some reason, and I assure you I was just as shocked as she.

I still had a bad feeling about the woman, and I was not pleased when the next day's Daily Prophet arrived at breakfast the following morning and proved me correct. _**"French Veela Enchants Boy-Who-Lived!"**_ it proclaimed. The story itself stopped just short of outright lies, but instead used things I'd said out of context to make it sound like I had been spirited away to France in the middle of the night and brainwashed by a coven of Veela.

The paper, much as the quills before it, burst into flame in my hands. This would not end well.

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**AN:** I have a start to chapter 9, but it's kind of flat. I need to work on it a bit in the near future... unless I get sucked back in to my Buffy/Harry story.


	9. Chapter 9

Blissful Amnesia

Chapter 9

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After the horrid article was published by that Skeeter woman, everything good that had happened at Hogwarts immediately reverted to crap. While the majority of the male students cooled their advances on Fleur, apparently out of fear of her supposed predatory ways, another set got even more aggressive, blaming their boorishness on her aura. Fleur was forced to forcibly discourage more than a few of the fools, and I solidly trounced at least three boys. Most of worst the offenders wore that hated green tie.

For the most part, Fleur and I took the events as a good reason not to mix with the Hogwarts students unless it was absolutely necessary. Hermione and Luna were the exception, of course, but even they grew weary of my tirades against the folly of their peers.

I was still in a distinctly sour mood when, exactly one week before the first task, Madame Maxime called Fleur and me in to her small office for a very enlightening discussion.

"Dragons," she said, ominously. "The first task is going to use dragons, one for each challenger."

Fleur shifted uncomfortably at the pronouncement and I could only blink. "They're really stupid enough to make us risk our lives against dragons?" I asked after I was able to form a thought out of my disbelief.

Madame Maxime nodded, looking more than a little displeased with the idea, herself. "The original task was worse than the one that we will see now, but it is still not good. Each challenger will face a Welsh Green, one of the smaller breeds. I don't know exactly what the challenge will be, but I would not expect you to have to actually kill the thing. The dragon preserves never would have provided nesting mothers, if that were the case."

"Nesting mothers?" I asked, my mind rapidly going over some of the many texts I'd read on dragons and other magical creatures.

Fleur beat me to it. "They intend to have us steal something from them, then. Mothers with eggs don't hunt, in the traditional sense, so they won't bother anyone that avoids their nest."

"Most likely," Madame Maxime agreed. "I do know that the task allows you to start with only your wand. You will have to find a way to deal with them magically."

"Magically? They're dragons… that's… well, it's possible, but it's not easy." I reached out and grabbed Fleur's hand, suddenly very afraid for her. "I think I can manage, but…"

"I will be fine, Jean," my lady love said and gave my fingers a squeeze. I felt a little better but not much.

"If you come to harm, my love, I will take the entire castle down about their heads, stone by stone if I need to," I said in all seriousness. I would do it, too.

"Jean, I don't think it will be necessary. The English are showing more restraint than usual by procuring three more Greens for the task. Hag- someone told me that they'd originally wanted a mixed group of the beasts including a Hungarian Horntail of all things. Can you imagine the stupidity of that?" Madame Maxime broke in. I think I scared her a little by threatening to commit some good old fashioned revenge killing.

We chatted for a while longer and then returned to our team. Hermione and Luna eagerly leapt at the chance to research something interesting and Marcel started filling us in on all of the past Tri-Wizard tasks that had involved dragons and how they worked. We were definitely going to have to sneak past them or steal something from them, but what that would be, we had no idea.

A week passed in a heartbeat and we had each come up with a shaky but workable plan. Attacking the dragons directly was a recipe for injury. Unless you could actually kill it, wounding a dragon was just asking it to go berserk and cause more damage faster than it normally would. For such large creatures, dragons were actually fairly cowardly, but there was no way to scare a nesting mother off of her nest.

That really just left stealth, and dragons ran on more senses than humans so the spells required to mask your presence from one were quite extensive. Distraction would also play a role, of course. Fleur's plan called for some charming magic, which I'm rubbish at, to make the dragon easier to fool. Mine didn't have that benefit, but some additional factors made it safer, overall.

Finally, the day came and Fleur and I spend the early morning together before separating to prepare for the match. We were using similar strategies, but we'd agreed that we didn't need the distraction of worrying about each other while we tried to calm ourselves. When Madame Maxime came for me, I was ready to get the ordeal over with.

The route I took across the grounds appeared to have been dictated by the tournament officials as it gave me only a minimal glimpse of the stands around the area where we would be undertaking the task. I'd have liked a better look, but I was denied.

I found Fleur and the other champions already waiting in the tent and gave them each a slight nod of acknowledgement. There was also a man with the features of a weasel trying to butter me up a bit, but I brushed him aside. I didn't need his "help", whatever that would entail.

"Well, we're all here," the man started as the assembled headmasters stepped into the tent. "For this task, you will have to retrieve a golden egg from a dragon's nest. Injuring the dragon or the other eggs in the nest is a penalty, though, so you must be careful."

The two boys looked as unsurprised as Fleur and I, and that made me realize that they'd also been warned. Apparently, this contest was as much about cheating as it was about actual performance. Fortunately for me, I am a right scoundrel when I put my mind to it.

As we had no questions, we went right to drawing numbered stones out of a bag to determine who would go first. Fleur pulled her stone and held it in a closed fist, not daring to look. I took mine, as well, holding it the same way and started to get a bad feeling in my gut. I had two options, go before Fleur or after her. If I went after her, I'd be trapped in the magically sealed tent unable to hear her fate until my turn. If I went before her, I'd have to sit and watch her risk her life while I was powerless to help her. Neither was a good option.

We opened our hands at the same time and I cursed quietly in Spanish when I saw that Fleur was first and I last. I could not have picked a more annoying arrangement if I'd tried.

As her name was called, we exchanged a last, chaste kiss and I settled down in a chair to clear my mind. The other two champions postured a bit, but eventually fell into their own version of nervous silence. I kept myself under control, but only barely as time went on.

One by one the others went out to face their fates, and then it was my turn.

As I stepped out of the tent, the sound that had been missing came rushing back to me. There, in front of me, was a Welsh Green in all of her glory. There is one thing that books about dragons don't really cover. Dragons are big. Sure, the Green is one of the smallest breeds, but its maw is still large enough to snatch up and devour a man in two bites. A man devoured in two bites is no less dead than a man devoured in one.

I felt fear, real fear, spreading through me as I stood there. I could very well have died in those moments had the dragon not been more interested in hissing at me while crouched over her nest. I was probably only frozen for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity before I found my control again.

I took a couple of deep breaths and centered myself. My approach was going to be technically impressive, but it would also require a good deal of luck. I glanced around, taking stock of the raw materials I had to work with.

Fortunately, the arena floor was composed primarily of loose stones of various sizes. That saved me having to summon materials as I began the intricate wand motions necessary to create the runes I needed. Three stones, each the size of a quaffle, glowed a faint blue as little lines started to appear on them. The lines drew themselves and other stones started to roll to the originals as things took form.

Finally, I finished my work, and there was a "whoosh" of displaced air as energy pulsed off the stones. The stones seemed to come to life and stacked atop each other. Each capstone became a "head" and the other stones formed squat but solid bodies. They rumbled as the lowermost stones churned around, propelling the mini-golems back to hover near me.

I let out a sigh of relief as the hardest of my spells worked. I could have just animated them with a bit of transfiguration magic, but the results of that would have been less predictable. Using the runes gave them a faux intelligence that would let them carry out far more complex orders than the "easy" way.

That intelligence was important as I rattled out a long series of directions to the golems and then began casting more spells. Each golem was layered with a string of enchantments to make them invisible and inaudible to the dragon. As I said before, the number of spells needed to accomplish that was quite impressive, as well, and unfortunately hid the golems from me as thoroughly as from the dragon.

Anyway, once I had completed my spell, I spoke the French word for "begin" and the golems went into action. At least, I assume they went into action because a few minutes later, the dragon spun in place, hissing at nothing. There was movement in her nest, and she spun again, snapping her jaws at the air. She missed twice, but then roared in pain as she must have gotten a good mouthful of rocks. As hard as she'd been snapping, that couldn't have felt good.

The bite probably destroyed one of my golems, but the most important part of the plan all lay with the third golem which wouldn't have been in the nest yet.

In pain from its aching teeth, the dragon reacted more violently to the next prod from the first invisible golem, actually stepping out of the nest to pursue it several steps. That was the cue for the third golem to move, and a second later, I saw the golden egg lifted from the rest by invisible hands. The golem immediately started moving in my direction.

As luck (bad luck, mind you) would have it, the dragon turned just in time to see what was going on and lunged. A jab from a forepaw caused the egg to drop to the ground and roll in my direction but the dragon was still far closer. The hit had probably destroyed my golem, not that it mattered any longer.

Cursing, I knew I was going to have to try something else. I swirled my wand, causing dirt and debris to fly from the ground and whip at the dragon as I rushed forward. The wind would make it hard for the dragon to see, hear, or smell me, but I feared that the vibrations of my feet on the ground would make that almost moot.

The dragon opened its mouth to breathe fire, but the wind made it hesitate. Dragons instinctively don't breath fire in high wind because it is possible for flame to blow back into the gas glands in their throats and blow them to bits. Thus, I can probably thank that spell for saving my life during a foolhardy charge. Had I been thinking more clearly, I would have simply waited for a moment to come up with a better plan.

The dragon took a swipe at me, but I managed to duck just in time, snatching up the egg and rolling away from the dragon's reach. A wave of my wand caused some of the ground where I'd just been to thrust upward, creating a low barrier that would protect me from flame and screen my retreat.

The dragon roared its rage, but was helpless to do more as I made it to the edge of the ring and dragon handlers rushed in to subdue the beast.

It was only when the wind spell finally died down that the sound of the crowd came rushing in on me. Pretty much everyone present was on their feet, cheering loudly. I smiled and sagged in relief as I realized that I'd finished the task. As the terror for my own life fled me, I realized that I still had no idea what had become of Fleur.

I needn't have worried. No sooner had I started looking than I was tackled by two energetic blonds babbling in French about how stupid I was and how happy they were that I'd survived.

The scores were posted and I was happy to see myself in first place. Diggory had managed second by using a conjured dog as a distraction. Fleur was in third, though her results had actually been the best of anyone's. Krum was bringing up the rear, but only because his brute force approach had caused the dragon to squash a few of the real eggs.

Of course, this was only the first of three tasks. If there were to be two more, and dragons were chosen as the opener… I did not look forward to the rest.

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**Author's Notes: **I'm not a big fan of this chapter. I also seem to have lost where I was going with this story… Hopefully I figure it out eventually. Thanks to everyone that has reviewed.


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